Tidal River
Last night I went to a beach with a tidal river, and it
swelled the sandy banks with its pristine water. There was a museum with
ancient Greek statues, half eroded in pure chalky white marble. I looked
through glass into the immediate depths of the river, wondering if it was
dangerously cold. The water was perfect; you could see every grain of sand in
place at the bottom. And then the glass was gone and the river was allowed to
wash in lovingly around the statues, brush its foam against their pedestals. It
was all part of a dynamic exhibit that included the tidal river acting as a
sensual element, how it contributed to additional sculpting—a subtle type of
erasure. There was also a shop where items were displayed. These items were
mostly rusted iron figurines that were buried in the sand for thousands of
years, uncovered by the river’s washing in and washing out and discovered by
people walking the banks. I made a choice, some rusted relic with wings, and
brought it to the cashier. She rang it up and charged me $4. She put it in a
sturdy paper bag and handed it to me. I went out to go sit on the bank, but by
now the river was swelling in full and people who were sunbathing had to leave.
There was no room; if you were going to stay, you had to swim. I looked out at
the night sky stealing in, a dark slate, how it contrasted with the white foam of the rushing
tide and I felt pure fear. I was alone.
Supernatural Fish
Bones
I had become distinctly aware of something floating just
above me on the right side of the bed. It was a fish, but this fish had no
scales, no flesh. Its bones were radiant and its eyes glowed. It hovered above
me in a lime-green hue, fluorescent, flapping its tail gleefully. It lit up the
dark. And just when I reached to grab it, I slipped back through the portal of
consciousness. My immediate feeling was terror, because I had realized then
that I had been with something unworldly. Why is my first feeling always fear?
Would not a supernatural fish be intriguing? Wouldn’t this be a particular
remedy to a day-to-day life that chisels away continuously at imagination? Am I
not constantly yearning for imagination?
Fish Kiss
Last week, on an abnormally warm day, I took the twins to
the dentist. As I sat there watching them lay back in their silly sunglasses
getting their teeth cleaned, I noticed a large empty fish bowl on a shelf. It
was wonderfully round and elegant. Before they were put in their chairs, the
kids were asking for the fish, where were they? Where was the tank? They had to
be told several times that the fish tank was being repaired. The fish were
unavailable at the moment. This was very disappointing to my kids. Marielle
pointed out the empty fish bowl on the shelf, and that's when I put to mind the exquisite curvature of the bowl. The fish bowl reappeared in my dream a following night, and inside it was a
fat yellow-bellied fish. This fish was female, and it floated vertically in the
water with its lips puckered at the lip of the water. I placed my lips on top of
its lips. What a delicate thing to do! And then suddenly there was a marring of
the water in the tank; there was a dust plume floating beside the vertical
kissing fish. Or was the dust plume a placenta? There was no baby. I attempted
to get the fish out of the dirty water into clean water without letting in the
dust plume placenta; this was arduous and I nearly gave up. I finally succeeded in placing the
fish in a two-part tank in which she could slide over a small plastic bridge
and into a second body of water. I thought this could be an interesting
activity for her, to keep her from getting bored. And then suddenly, as if it
was spontaneously generated, a carp appeared in the tank. The carp was a
brilliant vermilion color and could jump from one side to the other. I thought
the yellow-bellied fish could learn from the carp, how to jump and live a more exciting
life. But the carp wasn’t happy jumping from one part, over the bridge, to the
other part. The carp leapt out of the tank entirely and landed on the carpet,
twitching. I fetched it, and he flopped in my hands. I put him back in the tank
and then he flipped back out again.
Some creatures, some ideas, some people are simply wild and
must come and go as they please.
